Experiment Kitchi
by twistedimaginationofme
Summary: "I stared at him, sopping wet and panting, wondering why I wasn't dead." Set in the 2003 universe. The turtles bring home a young human-like mutant they found on a seemingly uninhabited island. Several years after accepting him into the family, Bishop comes to take back his failed experiment. Can they keep their adoptive little brother safe from his true origins?
1. Prologue

**Experiment Kitchi**

 _Disclaimer : Nickelodeon owns Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Thank you._

* * *

 **-Prologue-**

With mud stuck between my toes, I schlepped though the river, sinking deeper into the ground. Frigid water smacked my knees. My healing water pouch thumped into my thigh as I pulled my shorts up by the belt loops.

In front of me, a fox's tail vanished into the bushes like an extinguished flame.

Realizing that I hadn't even heard the critter, it occurred to me that the hunters could be hiding behind the leafy shadows.

Black eyes peering out of the mesh, tree limbs bowing under their weight as they lingered with their ropes and nets ready to seize me at any moment.

I stopped, judging whether the branches overhead could hide their mutated bodies. No, the green up there was a vivid-lime, almost yellow color under the noon sun. Hunters hated direct sunlight.

The whole sky seemed to dance. Light shone through, blotting out my vision with its golden radiance.

I had almost forgotten how powerful natural light was.

Looking down, I rubbed my eyes, blinking to get rid of the floating spots.

Pushing my dark hair out of my face, with my sight still distorted, I took a step forward and kicked a rock.

I stumbled in a cloud of muck, ultimately losing my balance and collapsing in on myself.

The current was stronger than I thought, it tossed me back and my head went under.

I flailed, grasping for anything solid in the grey and red world, gurgling water as it rushed into my mouth and penetrated my nose.

Frightened, I couldn't find my way up. My fingers scraped up sand and pebbles, feet kicking wildly as my clothes got caught on waterweeds.

Something solid cast a shadow over me, and I grabbed at it.

It dragged me out of the water, as if trying to haul a buoy straight up. I gulped for air, half-choking as someone swung me over his massive shoulder.

My mind fixated on the pouch as it nearly slipped over my head, and I struggled to grab the thin string and hold on.

It bounced harmlessly off my rescuer's leg, the black string coming undone in cords, knotted between my white knuckles.

Numb and heavy with shock, when I fell to the muddy riverbank, I laid there, splayed out like a dead body.

My mind was empty of thought.

A face talked above me. I focused on the branches interlacing into the sky, unable to hear anything beyond the echoes of sloshing water and rustling trees.

The body had large, callused hands. I could no longer see his face. He pulled me up to cough out the water still stuck in my lungs.

Getting clearer breathes of air, my vision bettered, as did the rest of my senses.

"Are you all right, kid?" His voice asked, as if I were hearing it from down in a hole.

Coughing again with a burning throat, I turned and blinked at the green and blue face.

I scrambled away with a burst of panicked energy, grabbing the closest weapon to me. It was a pathetic twig with a small brown leaf hanging on by a vein.

Still, I held it between us.

His eyes widened.

My hands began to sting and I dropped the twig with a scream, thorns stuck in my palms and fingers.

I cried, moving to the side when he reached out for me.

His body was tense, "I'm sorry!" He said, "I didn't mean to scare-" He jumped up as I darted into the bushes, "Wait!"

He caught me in the same moment. Dragging me back by the shirttail.

I tried to pull the white dripping fabric away from him and failed. I scrambled for my pouch, and with all the strength I had left in me, hurled it at him.

It bonked him in the stomach.

"Ow!" He let go of my shirt and took my pouch, holding it out of my reach above his head, water droplets rolling down his wrist.

He grabbed and squeezed my shoulder with the other hand before I could run again, "Look, I'm not here to hurt you."

I stared at him, sopping wet and panting, wondering why I wasn't dead.

He wasn't a hunter. Any hunter would have pummeled me without hesitation.

Where did he come from? Were there other creatures outside the prison? I hardly thought so.

He bent down to my eye-level. No one had ever done such a thing with me.

I turned away, never having looked anyone in the eye before. He tilted his head to see my face, "I'm Leo," he said gently, "I saw you fall and I wanted to help. What's your name?"

I wondered if he was a spirit of the wood. Their ways were different from mortals. Had the storytellers been wrong in their descriptions of the creatures?

I looked towards him, and then diverted my eyes to the pouch in his hand. He held it loosely. The string fell nearly invisible on the damp earth.

He followed my gaze, and brought it up between us, his fingers rubbed up against the embroidered name. Feeling the bumps of thread, he turned the pouch around, "Kitchi." He read, "Is that your name?"

Timidly, I nodded.

He sighed and let go of my shoulder, leaving a tender spot where his hand had been, "You want it back?" He asked, "You're not going to hit me with this again, are you?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"No…"

He relaxed, "Okay," Just as he opened his mouth to say more, his head snapped to the side.

There was swooshing movement trough trees and the birds were suddenly silent.

I scurried behind Leo, hoping his sheer size and strangeness of appearance would frighten the hunters away, whether he was a spirit or not.

Peering over his shell, I saw a face muscle flex as he smiled, "Donnie!"

Feeling me move, he reached behind and grabbed me by the forearm, and pulled me out to face the creature hidden in the vegetation.

"Leo?" Donnie's purple mask slid down, a clear sheen of sweat shone on his face, "Who's this?"

Leo stood, "Donnie, this is Kitchi." He said, "Kitchi, this is my brother, Donnie."

Donnie stared at me dubiously, readjusting his mask, "Where'd he come from?"

"I'm not sure," Leo shrugged, "I just saved him from drowning out there." He gestured widely to the ripples.

I felt a chill collect under my breastbone. There were _two?_

Staggering back, I grabbed the tree behind me, sputtering out fish water. I scrubbed at my nose, looking at my feet.

My foot was beginning to swell. I could plainly see it through the caked on mud.

At the sight, my sense of pain returned. My foot began to throb, and each thorn in the skin made itself known to me, sharp and biting.

I hissed, pushing off the bark to look at my red prickly hands.

Leo crouched down again. He grabbed my left wrist, examining the damage done to the hand, "This is my fault." He frowned, "I scared him and he grabbed a twig from one of the thorn bushes."

"Ouch!" Donnie said in sympathy, bending over to see, "I got stuck with one too when I was coming down here." He held up his arm for me to see.

Three or four nicks marked his skin, none of them bleeding.

Leo pulled out one of the thorns, and I yelped, pulling my hand away.

My pouch was behind Leo's heel, and I twisted to swoop down and grab it.

His brows shot up under his mask as I held it to my stomach protectively, away from him, "Kitchi, wait!"

"What're you doing?" Donnie questioned as I plopped down on the ground with my rescued treasure in my lap.

I sighed in relief from getting the weight off my foot, which felt as if it were radiating heat up my leg.

I fastened my teeth to my lower lip, doubting what I was about to do as I glanced at them. They didn't act like any creatures I had ever known or heard of… Not even the demons in stories.

I feared that they might not take kindly to my abilities. No other mutant ever had.

And as far as I knew, spirits weren't injured like mutants, and they might take offense. A curious part of me wondered how a spirit could be pricked with thorns, and I glanced up at Donnie.

I decided that it was best not to potentially anger them, and I flipped the cap up with a soft _pop!_

And let the water trickle down into my palm and slid it over the bridge of my foot, revealing that it was red and puffy.

They stared at my foot for a moment.

"I know we look scary, Kitchi." Leo said carefully, "But you have to trust us, we can help you." He squeezed my shoulder again, making it ache under the pressure, "Relax."

I tried flicking the mud off my fingers, covered in thorns. None of it came off. I flicked harder, and with no results. I growled, "I didn't think spirits helped anyone." I gave up and secured the pouch between my legs.

They're eyes glazed over for a half-second.

"What?" Leo stared at me, in my peripheral, I saw him bringing his brows together.

Donnie shook his head, and I instinctively hunched my shoulders in anticipated reprimand, "Er… Kitchi, we're not spirits… We're…"

"…Mutants." Leo finished.

"Mutants?" I repeated, blood coursed just below my skin, blooming in my face, "How'd you escape?"

Donnie frowned at me, "What do you mean 'escape?'"

I stood up, "Leave the prison!" I shouted.

Leo caught the pouch before any water spilled out.

I threw my arms, gesturing up river, "Only hunters are allowed out! _You escaped_!"

Their faces paled, and they straightened.

I folded my wounded foot around the other ankle, "You're not from the prison?" I asked.

Suddenly having cottonmouth, I took the pouch from Leo and brought it to my lips.

Ignoring nips of protesting thorns, I squeezed it with both hands so a steady stream dropped into my mouth.

I swished it around, savoring the thickness of it before swallowing.

Taking a deep breath, I prayed that the water could heal me from the inside out.

I gave the pouch back to Leo, giving my hands some relief. I concentrated on the willowy shadows dancing in the trees, unable to say more, my lips were numb.

"There's a prison on this island?" Leo turned to Donnie.

"I wasn't aware that there were any settlements here, there's nothing on the maps." Donnie said. Then a shadow crossed his face, and he looked to me with the thought, "Kitchi," he said quietly, "why did you think we had escaped from the prison?" Donnie asked.

"Everyone there is a mutant." I lowered my voice to match his, "There aren't any more outside the gates. We all live there, you can't be mutants." Perhaps they were the spawns of spirits and mutants.

"You're not a human?" They asked together.

I squinted at them, "Human?"

"Okay…" Leo held up his hands, as if to stop time, "Lets take a step back. There's a prison on this island, full of mutants. Right—and you're one of those mutants? You escaped?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"And what about the hunters?" Donnie added, "What do the hunters do?"

I shrugged, blinking, breathing deeply to keep my composure, "Well, now… They're hunting _me_."

"You're being hunted? How long have you been out here?" Leo twisted the fraying black cords between his fingers meditatively.

I sniffed, clenching and unclenching my fists to keep in touch with reality, "I left at dawn."

"We're not that far away from the prison, then." Leo said more to himself than anyone else. He touched his chin, and then continued, "Kitchi, you can come stay at our camp tonight. We'll protect you from the hunters," he touched one of his swords, "if you tell us more about the prison."

I agreed.

"Here," Donnie said, giving me a kind smile, "Let me try to get those thorns out, first."

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 _A/N: Thank you for reading._


	2. Reflections

**Experiment Kitchi**

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 **Reflections**

Mikey had once referred to my eyes as blueberries, and the rest of the family agreed. As I thought about this, I found myself unable to look at Raph directly—not with a bowl full of blueberries sitting right in front of me, "You're home early."

He put a finger under my chin and lifted my head, "I didn't go with the others." Eye contact was a necessary nuisance when it came to communicating with Raphael. His eyes glinted in a stern reminder of that, and he removed his hand, "Thought I should keep an eye on you, Kitchi."

My insides went watery as I looked up at him. Then in a surge of timidity, I turned my head and gave him a sidelong glance, "What's that supposed to mean?"

A woman crying along with dramatic music rung through the lair from Master Splinter's soap opera in the other room. We would have at least another good half hour alone, and we both knew it.

He pulled out the least splintery chair and sat down, the wood creaking under his weight as he leaned over, "Can I have some?" Without waiting for an answer, he scraped the bowl into the middle of the table and took a handful of berries.

Raph plucked a single blueberry from his palm, "How long have you been goin' to those underground fights?"

Blood rose behind my eyes, and my heart thumped. I stuffed my face with berries to avoid answering immediately and buy myself some time.

He tapped his fingers on the side of the table impatiently. He didn't flinch at the leftover stickiness from the spilt syrup during breakfast.

My throat was tight, but I managed to swallow, "I don't fight." I saw him open his mouth, and added, "I heal the fighters."

His brow rose at that, "And they pay you three hundred bucks for it?" He laid out my wad of cash.

I stood up, kicking my chair back, " _You went through my room?_ " Catching myself, I huffed, crossed my arms, and said through my teeth, "That doesn't matter."

"It does matter if you're breaking the law!" He stood up after me, pointing an accusatory green finger at me, "Do you realize how dangerous that is? What if you got mixed up with the wrong guy?"

I gave him a blueberry glare down my nose, thankful to be slightly taller than him. I was sure my voice would be shaky, laced with my internal emotions, as my face grew hotter, but it was smooth and cold as ice when I spoke, "I was just keeping my promise."

There were several beats of silence. And then the TV screamed. Heated, I pushed my black sleeves up over my elbows, squirming under his gaze.

His eyes drifted to my bare arms, "What promise?"

My thumb rubbed up against scar tissue, and I looked down to see the healed over lash mark, "I said I'd heal you the best I could. Sometimes we need medicine and bandages that we don't have and can't afford."

"Is that what this is about?" He threw his hand up and growled at me, "A promise you made to us when you were _eight_? That was nine years ago!" He came around the table and grabbed my wrist to prevent me from covering my face, "Look at me—don't you ever go to another fight again." He tilted his head, "You hear?"

I pulled my hand away, backing up, forcing him to let go, "Are you going to tell the others?"

"They already know, Casey saw ya last week, you little punk." He hit me over the head, "If you're gonna do something and not tell us about it, don't be so sloppy and let someone else see ya."

I snorted at him, when I saw a ball of orange fur in the corner of my eye, "Klunk!"

The cat scuttled at my cry, knocking the bowl over the edge. Blueberries went rolling.

He ran over the money, getting a hundred dollar bill stuck to his claw.

Raph lunged at him from over the table.

Klunk jumped and darted out of the kitchen, money flying.

We chased after him, only to be stopped by Master Splinter. He caught Klunk in one swoop, picking the Benjamin from his paw. He studied it for a moment, and put the meowing cat down.

Klunk disappeared under the couch as Splinter turned off the TV. Instead it went into white noise. Wrong button.

Master splinter groaned and displayed the money, "Boys, where did this come from?" His attention turned to me, as if he already knew.

Raph jabbed me with his thumb, "Kit's been taking up jobs on the underground fight scene, Sensei."

"Is this true, Kitchi?" I could hear the growing disappointment in his voice. He offered me back the hundred-dollar bill.

I put it in my pocket, and shook myself, doing a mental reset, "Yes. I get paid to heal fighters when they're hurt and don't want to go to the hospital. I've never fought in the ring."

"Do you use your _abilities_ to heal them?" His beady eyes narrowed, as he didn't need me to answer him. Then he looked to Raph, "Raphael, go clean up the mess in the kitchen. I must speak with Kitchi alone."

At that, I gave up and sunk into the nearest lumpy blue cushion, not bothering to watch Raphael leave. My heart was drowning in stomach acid, leaving a hollow pit in my chest.

I stared at the fuzzy static screen, shoulders drooping. Splinter was a shadow as he passed to sit on the opposite side of me.

He hardly even made an indent in the couch. Before speaking, he gave me the remote.

Not three seconds later, the television zapped to our dark reflections, and I put the remote on the coffee table.

Before I was a part of this family, so much as a glance at someone in a place of authority could get me beaten. It was my second nature to evaluate the intentions of others by looking at their reflections.

Splinter never meant to hurt me, but his anger was just as fear inspiring as any beating I had ever gotten.

I sighed, seeing that he was completely still and leaning forward, his face pinched in concern rather than fury, "You willingly endangered yourself and our family for money. What is the meaning of this, my son?"

"Watching other people suffer is too hard." I drew my knees together, feeling everything cool down.

Knowing my nature, he looked into my reflection's eyes, "It is not wise to carry the burdens of the world on your shoulders. Be careful, Kitchi, if you give into your fears as Leonardo has in the past, I fear that you will not so easily regain balance as he did."

"Everyone suffered for what happened with Leo. I won't do that."

His grey brows tilted upward, "You will if someone reports your gift to the authorities. Our entire family could be captured, or worse, you could be taken away from us."

I leaned back, completely exhausted.

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 _A/N: Thanks for reading!_


	3. Bathroom

Leonardo grabbed my upper arm, "That's enough, Kitchi." He yanked me back to my feet, and lowered his voice, "I know what you're doing."

What I was doing? Toilet maintenance _was_ usually his job. Did he think I was trying to soften him up by doing his chores? I found that line of thought annoying… Until I remembered that I wasn't above it, in reality.

My knees felt warm and dirty from the water I spilt when he pulled me up, "Leave me alone." I stole my arm away from him.

He hated it when I did his chores. I hadn't even bothered to care when I knelt down to scrub the toilet bowl.

I could tell he wanted me to look at him, but eye contact seemed like a naïve concept that would never happen. My words came out harsher than intended, "What do you want?"

He stepped away, hands up in a silent, false surrender, "We need to talk about what happened in the fights."

My heart pounded itself into my throat. For a moment I thought I couldn't speak.

Raph had already infringed upon my privacy, and Leo was doing no better with my personal space—grabbing my arm the way he did, " I already said I wouldn't go anymore! What's the problem?" I hit him in the shoulder, going to the sink, "I can handle myself."

"And nobody doubts that." Leo started to cross his arms, and then apparently, thought better of it, "But what you're doing isn't a healthy use of your powers."

I turned on the faucet, watching him in my peripheral, "This isn't healthy?" My fingers hovered near the running water, attracted to it like a powerful magnet, "You don't understand," I said, "there's no way you can."

A smaller stream broke off at my will, and cold water washed over my reddened knuckles. It was soothing to my overworked hand. I breathed with relief. He had no idea how hard I had been working.

"Does it have something to do with what they did to you in the prison?"

The water spiked, splattering everywhere.

My eyes burned and my vision was swimming as I turned on him, "Doesn't everything?" I demanded, "Why would you even say that?"

He watched me with a cool expression. His poise was nauseating, and I wanted to throw something at him.

He tilted his head in curious concern, and I resisted the urge to grab the toothpaste tube.

Instead, I turned back to the water, and tried to bring it back up to me. It all gurgled down the drain, "Go. Away."

Leo started to move, and I wished I could take back what I said.

Then he leaned on the doorframe, wordlessly stating that he wasn't going anywhere, while also blocking my only exit.

I couldn't flee. In that moment, I hated him. I had no intention of leaving, but he had taken away the option. I felt like a trapped animal.

We stared at each other, and he eventually softened his gaze, "They would beat you when you tried to heal them. What you were doing topside had nothing to do with that?'" He asked gently.

Finally turning off the water, I said, "I'm not talking about that."

Normally nose-blind to the sewer stink, the room seemed to spin when I caught a whiff of sewage.

I must have looked paper-white. Leo touched me suddenly, as if expecting me to fall. I hardly felt it, really. My senses were distracted by my early, miserable memories of when I was first brought to the lair and times even before that, which my brain was trying to shut out.

Leonardo started to say something, when Mikey's voice interrupted him, "Hey guys, Donnie wants—what happened?"

Between the three of us, the bathroom was feeling crowded. Another wave of hot nausea hit me. I tried to ground myself by rubbing my finger over the sharp edge of the counter.

In the mirror, I saw Leo's mouth open and close a few times, "Kit isn't… I don't know…" He faltered.

My stomach lurched.

The next thing I knew, they had me kneeling over the toilet bowl. I shuttered. My mouth tasted nasty, and my throat burned from throwing up.

I belched and dry heaved.

Mikey bent his head towards me, "I told you you needed to relax."

Leo got to his knees on the opposite side of me. Though I couldn't talk at the moment, I thought a long string of curses and insults about him. My head was humming with a blood rush, giving me a headache.

He grabbed my hair by the roots, keeping my head from dipping into the reeking bile.

Together, they pulled me back. I wiped my mouth and instantly regretted it, " _Yech-ugh_!"

Mikey made a similar high-pitched sound, and stood up, "It's all right, we'll get you cleaned up!" He looked around with a panicky expression, and then grabbed the hand towel.

He practically threw it at Leo, who caught it and mopped my face with it.

I snatched his wrist with my slimy hand. I felt a healthy amount of satisfaction at the look of repulsion on his face. Then in a voice so weak only he could hear me, I said, "I… will hurt you."

Mikey used his foot to flush the toilet, he looked down, innocent and owl-eyed, "What'd he say?"

Leo used his opposite hand to pluck my hand off his wrist, "Uh." He waited until the noise faded, "He's mad at me. Will you get him some clothes? We need to get him out of these." He pinched a clean spot on my soiled shirt.

Tears of exertion and humiliation leaked from my eyes, dripping down my face.

Left alone, Leo looked slightly embarrassed himself, "Here, let me…"

I pushed him off of me.

"Are you okay?"

"Nooo." My voice was startlingly high and broken, "You don't… Don't talk to me…"

He pressed his lips together, and for once, he listened.

He still tried to get me to my feet.

I shook my head at him, hesitating to let him help me stand to get to the sink again.

The unpleasantness of the whole situation in my mouth convinced me to not fight him off again, though.

I washed my hands and face, and had just spat out the toothpaste when Mikey came back, with Donnie on his heels.

"You threw up?" Donnie looked me up and down, "How're you feeling now?"

Afraid of my voice, I didn't answer, and not wanting to be fussed over, I ripped my shirt off over my head without anyone's help. I wadded it up and tossed it in the corner with the hand towel.

The whipping scars all around my arms, shoulders, and back looked worse under the direct light, they were stretched and strange looking from my growth spurts. One lash had scarred so dreadfully, it made the muscle in my right shoulder permanently disfigured.

I glared around at my brothers, sure that they were staring. Yet, they were tactfully averting their eyes from my body. The relief seemed foreign. It didn't last long, either.

Donatello had remained at the doorway, watching Leo with a judgmental air.

Leo stared back at him.

Mikey and I both were glancing between them. Something must have happened, and I was sure neither of us understood what the significant looks were for.

Mikey gave me the new shirt.

The second my scars were hidden, the silence was broken, "The bathroom is an odd place to congregate, my sons."

Donnie moved aside, "Kitchi's sick, Sensei. He threw up."

Splinter looked at me the same way Donnie did, "Is that so?" He stepped back, "Come out of there, all of you. "

We all filed out. I don't think I ever fully appreciated the space we had in the lair until then.

"Are you still feeling nauseous, Kitchi?"

I tugged on my sleeve, "No, Master Splinter." I sounded fairly normal to myself, "I think I was overworking myself."

He raised his brows at me.

"It was my fault." Leo said, standing to the right of Mikey, "I was pushing him to talk about what they did to him in the prison."

Mikey gasped.

Donnie took my elbow, and was already dragging me away when he said, "C'mon, Kitchi, if you're sick, you should lie down."

"But, Don…" I glanced back, but saw that the others agreed with him, defeated and upset, I followed him, "…I don't understand."

He guided me around the corner, and into my room.

I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I sat down on the bed. Donnie sat across from me, on the foot of the bed.

There were a few herbs growing in small pots under artificial sunlight on my bedside table, I looked at those instead of him and crossed my arms.

"Kitchi," he said in a soft voice, "I'm sorry Leo was trying to push you to talk about… That."

My old pouch hung next to the herbs, off a nail in the wall. I reached out and grabbed it. I turned it over in my hands, as if it were a heavy stone. Age had deformed it. It looked like a shrunken stomach.

It gurgled, finding air as water spilt into my hand, "Why would he even think of that?"

Donnie sighed, watching me, "Raph said this all had something to do with that promise you made when you were little… Leo overreacted. You know, we're trying to keep up our promise too. We're trying to keep you safe."

I sniffed, "You know you can't protect me forever."

"We'll protect you for as long as we have to." Donnie finally answered.

The water was lukewarm. I weaved it between my fingers like a string, "You'd… Tell me if something happened… that involved the p-prison, wouldn't you?"

Donnie leaned in, "We would."

I looked at him, or his plastron, rather. It was thick and scarred, and heaved with his breath, "I don't believe you. I just threw up at the thought of that place."

His voice was warm, "We were scared when we realized what you were doing. We made assumptions that weren't correct, and you paid for it. I'm sorry, Kitchi." He smiled unexpectedly, "Maybe we need to realize that you're growing up."

It was a pathetic attempt to comfort me, "Why aren't you more angry? I could have gotten us all killed, if someone turned me in."

This time, he frowned, and his voice was hard, "You're not going back there, are you?"—He waited for me to shake my head—"Then it's not a problem right now." He got up, "Now lay down, you need to rest."

"What aren't you telling me?" I cupped the water in my palm, and let it fall back into the pouch.

He gave me a warning look, taking the pouch out of my hands, "You don't have to worry about it." He said shortly.

Not wanting to be scolded, I pulled the covers up, "You're treating me like a child, and you just said I was growing up!"

"Yeah, well," He drew his brows together, and put the pouch back on its hook, "Like I said… Good night, Kitchi."

He turned the lights out on me.

Moments later, I heard arguing. Most of the argument was muffled, but I caught parts like, '… _his DNA,' and, 'What were you thinking?'_ that drifted through my room.

Later I realized that it was Donatello and Leonardo fighting. I was sure Master Splinter was refereeing in case it got out of hand.

Raph had probably slinked out of his room to see what the commotion was, too, because Mikey had felt safe enough to come and hide out with me.

I didn't know why he didn't just go to his own room, but I didn't ask, either.

He sat where Donnie hat sat on the foot of the bed. He did know more than I did, I saw it on his shadowed face—it didn't matter though, he was just as freaked out as I was.


End file.
